Path of the Extra

Time kept passing. Weeks slipped by, yet neither the Frost Princess nor the Crimson Prince returned to class, even after their granted three-week absence had long expired.

Jasmine walked down the academy corridors, ignoring the glances cast her way. She held back a sigh.

Just earlier, she had gone to Azriel’s room, only for Amaya and Iryndra to inform her that he wasn’t there. In fact, he hadn’t returned for an entire week. Naturally, that would have been worrying—if not for the fact that they already knew exactly where he was.

So after that, Jasmine decided to go see him herself.

She had been buried under an avalanche of work—as the heiress of the Crimson Clan, the student council president, and being the leader of her own faction. It was only recently that she had found the time to look into the rumors that had been swirling around her little brother. Even her best friend had seemingly gone missing from her room for some reason.

‘I know that every year, someone ends up being the academy’s most talked-about topic. This year, it seems to be Azriel… but still, I wish the rumors weren’t always so exaggerated.’

But there was nothing she could do about it. People loved to talk. They loved to exaggerate.

Nonetheless, now that she finally had some free time, she figured she might as well check on him. It had been a while since they last spoke—probably the faction meeting was the last time she had seen him.

Eventually, she arrived at a certain faculty room. Jasmine didn’t hesitate and stepped inside.

What met her eyes was… chaos.

The entire room was a mess. The curtains were drawn, blocking out the light. Books and countless papers were scattered everywhere. Pens rolled off the desks. Dozens of empty food boxes, likely delivered meals, were piled haphazardly in corners.

And in the middle of it all, sprawled across a luxurious couch, was a man in a white lab coat. A book lay open over his face, rising and falling slightly with his steady snores.

Then, Jasmine’s gaze shifted to the far side of the room. Behind a desk, completely engrossed in a stack of papers, sat a familiar figure.

She blinked in mild surprise.

‘So it’s true… what Amaya said. He’s become an Advanced.’

The speed at which Azriel had ascended from a Grade 3 Intermediate to a Grade 3 Advanced was nothing short of absurd. Then again, she supposed it was inevitable.

He hadn’t noticed her yet. His attention remained fixed on the documents before him, a steaming cup of tea or coffee in his hand. He took a slow sip, his expression unreadable.

Jasmine studied him.

He was different from the last time she saw him.

Which was ridiculous.

Even with him becoming a grade 3 advanced, could a person truly change this much?

His hair had grown out, now reaching his shoulders in an unkempt mess.

Azriel was never the bulky type, but as Jasmine looked at him now, a strange sense of worry crept into her chest—he looked so thin, so fragile, as if a mere paper cut might make him bleed to death.

Her heart clenched for a brief moment.

‘I read somewhere that the higher our rank, the closer we get to our soul… So does that mean his soul is like this?’

The thought unsettled her.

But not a second later, she shook her head.

Ridiculous. Just some nonsense she had read.

Sighing inwardly, she closed the door behind her in silence and walked toward him.

“Azriel.”

She called out to him softly.

Azriel turned at the sound of her voice, and his dark, sleepless eyes widened slightly.

“Sister?” His voice held a faint note of surprise. “What brings you here?”

Jasmine stopped right in front of him, crossing her arms as she leaned forward. Her gaze sharpened.

“You,” she said flatly. “What else?”

Her voice dropped a few degrees.

“You’ve been cooped up in here for the past week—not even attending classes. Seriously… when’s the last time you slept?”

Azriel blinked.

“Wait… It’s already been a week?”

Jasmine let out a sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“I didn’t even notice time passing so quickly…”

Azriel rubbed his eyes before standing from his chair, stretching lazily. Jasmine watched him for a moment, then let her gaze drift toward the scattered papers on the desk.

“What are you even doing here?” she asked.

“Not much…” Azriel yawned. “Just researching runes.”

“Runes?”

Jasmine stepped forward, picking up one of the documents. She tried to read it—

And failed.

‘W-What the hell…? What is all of this!?’

Her eyes widened.

The papers were covered in intricate, geometric shapes—symbols that didn’t resemble any known language. They were alien. Unreadable.

And yet, Azriel had carefully drawn circles around them, labeling them in neat handwriting:

Void Runes.

‘The Void Language… Did he copy these? Or… did he write them from scratch?’

She couldn’t tell.

Their father had once told her that Azriel could read the Void Language better than even the finest void archaeologists… but to what extent did that talent go?

Jasmine reached for another paper.

The same eerie runes covered its surface. But this time, the label was different.

Not Void Runes.

Instead, scrawled beneath them in Azriel’s precise handwriting—

God Runes.

Jasmine blinked.

She couldn’t tell the difference between them. And yet… why had he given these runes such a grandiose name?

Her gaze drifted to Azriel, who was yawning once again.

“Why are you researching these runes?” she asked. “And what’s the difference between God Runes and Void Runes?”

Azriel smiled enigmatically. He picked up a sheet containing God Runes in one hand and a sheet with Void Runes in the other.

“You could say it’s to satisfy my curiosity,” he said. “These runes… there’s so little we actually know about them. I want to understand them, to use them. But… what we do know is that there are currently two types of runes we’ve discovered.”

“Two?”

Jasmine raised an eyebrow.

Azriel brought both papers in front of her. She studied them closely. These weren’t actual runes. They were merely copies.

“Void Runes,” Azriel began, tapping the page on the left. “We call them the Void Language. With enough time and effort, we can decipher them. They have meaning, purpose, and they never fade.”

Then, he lifted the second sheet.

“And these… I like to call them God Runes. Unlike Void Runes, we don’t know what they mean. Our heads feel like they’re splitting apart when we try to read them. Some don’t seem to serve any purpose we can comprehend, while others do—like opening a gate, revealing hidden treasure… and yet, just like Void Runes, they never fade, no matter how much time passes.”

His voice lowered slightly.

“What else but something related to a god could create runes that not even our father can read—without going madder than he already is?”

Azriel turned and placed the papers back on the desk.

It didn’t take a genius to figure out how rare these so-called God Runes were. Most of them were impossible to look at, and Jasmine had no idea how Azriel had gotten a clear copy of one.

Just enduring the pain of looking at a discovered God Rune was considered a feat.

Tilting her head slightly, she asked,

“Little brother… I assume you haven’t been holed up in here for an entire week just to give them names?”

At her words, Azriel’s smile widened. He took the papers from her hands.

“Of course not.”

Jasmine noticed something unreadable flicker in his eyes. A strange feeling settled in her chest—something unexplainable.

His expression twisted, unreadable.

“I…” Azriel hesitated for the briefest moment. Then, he met her gaze.

“I’ve been trying to figure out how it’s possible to create these runes… and whether there are other types out there.”